


we both fall asleep underneath the same sky

by asapzxyn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asapzxyn/pseuds/asapzxyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"they’re searching the bleary london sky for a single star but they can’t find one. louis says that’s a metaphor for the strength of their love. harry tells him it’s a shitty metaphor because he sees constellations and they’re bright and gleaming in louis eyes. then they’re laughing and louis is telling him about their plans after uni, the places they’ll go, the people they’ll meet, and harry forgets that he left his heart on the floor in the flat because he feels whole again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we both fall asleep underneath the same sky

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first larry fic and my first fanfic ever. the title is from 5SOS' song Beside You. feedback would be lovely. thank you for reading. holla okay bye

there he sits.

on a bench in a desolate park at six thirty on december twenty fourth. curls blowing in the chilly breeze, snowflakes sprinkling the earth like dandruff, harry sits scoping the park every few mintues. the nineteen year old decided to show up early, just to make sure he won't miss him. he couldn't remember the exact time they'd set, but he promised he'd be here. he promised. louis never breaks his promises.

its been five weeks since harry has last seen louis. they'd gotten into an awful argument and louis stormed out, fleeing their shared flat in hopes of outrunning the venomous words that would eat him alive.

harry remembers coming home, excitement coursing through his veins at the very thought of being with louis- as they hadn't had much time together in quite some time. he remembers bursting through the door to find louis sat at their kitchen table, blue walls as bright as ever, staring down at his tea. he remembers his boyfriend saying he was going to bring eleanor home with him once again on his annual mandatory holiday trip back home instead of harry. that his parents wouldn't understand, that he wasn't ready to come out to them yet. harry remembers screaming out of hurt and anger, telling him that if he loved him he would stop hiding him. that he didn't want to be his dirty secret anymore. that if their two year relationship meant anything to louis he would take him instead. give harry the chance to meet his family, his little sisters whom louis adored. louis pleaded for harry to be understanding, he remembers. he remembers telling louis to fuck off, that he had been understanding for two years now and it wasn't fair. harry remembers how terribly selfish he was that night. a quality so unlike him, louis was startled. louis pleaded for him to understand.

harry remembers calling louis a fucking coward. he remembers his twenty one year old boyfriend's eyes- the beautiful blue a defeated pale as he stuggled to find something to say. remembers watching his louis leave. he doesn't remember him ever coming back.

ten p.m. finds the snow coming down around harry faster now, as he pulls the collar of his peacoat up to protect his neck from the now crippling cold, the boy tries not think about how louis would say that was a metaphor for their relationship. instead, his adjusts his stray curls and watches for louis.

they made a promise, one night. a hazy night of lukewarm hot chocolate and half-assed grilled cheese sandwiches. it was louis' nineteenth birthday, a night he was planning to spend alone before sweet, seventeen year old harry showed up with a cupcake he baked himself, green eyes as light as ever, and a grin that could illuminate the even darkest room.

"happy birthday, boo." harry sang, his voice rough and deep. louis' face erupted into the smile that harry cherished. a real smile. his eyes sparkling and the crinkles harry adored but hardly saw, made him look like a child. louis was older, yes, but harry was taller and bigger; something he prided in and never ceased to remind louis. but in that moment he felt like a child too. he felt dainty and soft like louis looked, and he hoped maybe louis felt that way too. when the smaller boy grabbed his wrist and all but dragged him out the door, cupcake in tow, harry knew he wanted to make louis feel how he looked for the rest of their lives. 

they ran to the park and collapsed down on a bench and talked about everything and anything. louis talked about going to uni and buying a flat together and living happily ever after, away from people's judgmental stares and presumptions. away from lonely nights of self loathing and hate-filled parents. just _harryandlouis_. harry loved that idea. he would follow louis to hell and back if it meant that his smile wouldn't fade and his eyes would stay the pretty sparkly blue harry loved and the boy he adored would no longer look in the mirror like it was the enemy.

because when it was _harryandlouis_ everything was okay.

but they both knew that reality can't be cultivated. they both knew that they were young and naive and their plans would be crushed; so on that park bench where they shared an icing splattered first kiss louis made harry promise- pinky promise- that no matter what happened, every year on louis' birthday he and harry would find their way here. some way, some how. even when they're old and wrinkly and need to be wheeled in a wheelchair. even if life is unfair and they drift apart. this was their own little world, and nothing could touch them. and here they would be okay.

a promise harry knew he could never break. surely he fell in love with that teeny boy with the beautiful crinkly eyes, messy fringe, and soft smile. he fell in love with his laugh and his little ankles and his jokes and the smell of his shampoo and the way he made harry feel warm and fuzzy and the late night trips to the park and the way he looked in one of harry's jumpers and the way he never let him eat ice cream before bed because he knows it gives him nightmares and the way he puts up with harry's affinity for romantic comedies and his tendency to never wear socks and his curvy body and the way he insists on being the big spoon even though he's so much shorter than harry and his quick and witty banter and the way he could never quite sit still. harry loved him through the weeks where louis wouldnt get out of bed so harry would skip class to lay with him, through the nights he wouldnt talk for hours at a time, through the days when louis had enough energy for the both of them, through the days of barely enough energy to eat. through the nights of tears when louis couldn't figure out why his parents were the way they are, why he was the way he was. 

louis loved harry too. harry knew that. but harry never had the answers louis needed, never knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do. but it was enough for both harry and louis. they would never be perfect, never be completely funtional, but _harryandlouis_ were okay. always okay.

a thin layer of snow covers harry as he sits, the clock on his phone reminding him that it's now eleven thirty. He dials the number he knows by heart and listens to it ring. three times. four times. five times.

"helloooo!" louis' voicemail sings in the voice Hharry hasn't heard in what feels like years, "i obviously missed your call and it's probably because i didn't want to talk to you! or because i'm busy with harry. so leave a message and i might just call you back. and if this is harry, i love you babe."

harry remembers when louis made that. he remembers asking louis about his parents hearing it and louis telling him that his parents don't call his cell, and if they did- they could fuck off. that this is his way of proclaiming his love, however miniscule. harry remembers calling louis at odd hours while studying just to listen to the voicemail because he knew louis was asleep.

"hey, um, lou. long time no talk. i miss you and-and happy birthday. i-uh...i came to our spot but you didn't show. i understand though. i've always understood." harry stutters, failing to mask the emotion in his voice. he clears his throat once the machine warns him he's got to wrap it up.

"happy birthday and merry christmas. i love you louis." he whispers, ending the call and standing up from the bench. but he's dialing his number again and this time he's crying by the time he gets that stupid voicemail message again.

"you promised you'd be here! you fucking promised. i'm sorry! i'm sorry." he screams into his phone, cheeks burning from the warmth of his tears. "where are you? why haven't you come home? come home, lou. i need you home. i'm so fucking sorry, i love you. you fucking promised. you promised me you'd be here no matter what."

but then he hears it. someone calling his name. and he whirls around so fast he feels like he's flying. because louis showed up. he showed up and he's coming home and he doesn't hate him and everything is going to be okay.

except it wasn't louis.

it's liam who grabs harry by his waist and leads him to the car, explaining that he and the lads had been looking for him all night and its too cold, but harry isn't listening. he asks where louis is and liam says something about a car accident weeks ago and that _fuck, harry pretending it didn't happen won't make anything better_ but harry isn't listening because hes waiting for louis. louis never breaks his promises. liam buckles him in and drives him home to where his three mates are waiting but one is missing. the boys tuck him into bed, tell him to sleep, and when liam pauses at the door to tell harry that it'll be alright, all harry wants to ask is why louis broke his promise, why is everything so wrong. how could things ever be okay.

so he flings his duvet off on to the floor, stumbles into their living room and picks up the atrocious lamp louis insisted on buying and lobs it across the room. then he grabs the photograph of the two on them on the balcony and throws that too. harry throws every inkling of louis at the wall until the broken shards of him are scattered on the floor-jagged and bleeding but beautiful, and harry thinks maybe that could be a metaphor for louis as a person. or maybe it could be a metaphor for his own heart.

trudging through the debris to the kitchen, the dim blue walks making him feel sick, he sits at the table where louis' favorite tea mug sits untouched and harry considers demolishing it, too.

but instead he fills it with the contents of his bathroom cabinet, climbs to the roof where he and louis used to stargaze, and lies there until louis is with him. and they're searching the bleary london sky for a single star but they can't find one. louis says that's a metaphor for the strength of their love. harry tells him it's a shitty metaphor because he sees constellations and they're bright and gleaming in louis' eyes. then they're laughing and louis is telling him about their plans after uni, the places they'll go, the people they'll meet, and harry forgets that he left his heart on the floor in the flat because he feels whole again. he doesn't mind that he's nearly covered in snow because louis is next to him again. and he doesn't think twice before he falls asleep with louis mumbling broken promises on his unmoving chest out on the roof underneath the starless sky that seems so familiar.

because its _harryandlouis_  and this is their world where no one can touch them. and everything is okay.


End file.
